


why don't you (wait for summertime)

by allyargents



Category: Emma Approved
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 20:00:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6208132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allyargents/pseuds/allyargents
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If someone asked Emma, twenty something years later, how long she’s loved him? She won’t say then, won’t even think it, but well, she’s loved him forever, so it doesn’t matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	why don't you (wait for summertime)

She meets him when she’s five years old. Well, she’s known him her whole life, but she remembers him then. She walks into her first day of kindergarten, in a pretty pink dress, both scared out of her mind and ready to take on the world, and she sees Alex. Emma doesn’t say anything, and neither does he, but he waves at her, and yeah, she ignores him, because he’s a dork, but the anxiety dwindles a little bit.

 

If someone asked Emma, twenty something years later, how long she’s loved him? She won’t say then, won’t even think it, but well, she’s loved him forever, so it doesn’t matter. 

 

~~~

 

She’s sixteen years old, at a graduation party, standing outside and flirting with a senior she’s had a crush on since she was fourteen. She thinks she has a shot at at least a hookup when suddenly he just says, “Hey, you’re cute, but I barely know you and I think you’re OCD and clingy, and high maintenance just isn’t my style.” She’s trying not to cry, but she can feel a tear trickling down her face, so she runs away and downs four tequila shots. Never let it be said that Emma Woodhouse isn’t an overachiever. Everything’s a little too loud, and a little too blurry as she runs outside to catch her breath and well, sob into her dress. 

 

He shows up after she pukes for the second time, rubbing her back as he says, “I had English with him junior year, and he’s a goddamn asshole. Whatever he said about you is wrong, I promise.” She doesn’t nod, but she smiles a little, mostly because Alex doesn’t swear. Ever. 

 

Alex pats her shoulder a couple time, before helping her up surprisingly gracefully. “C’mon, let’s get you home,” he almost whispers, and it lightens the blow of her killer headache.

 

“You’re my best friend,” she says, and sure, she’s as drunk as she’s ever been, so it doesn’t have to mean a thing. But when she wakes up, she rolls over and sees the note on her dresser. 

 

Emma,

 

I grabbed some Advil and water (you know you need it) and Izzy will grab you Starbucks if you ask. Try to drink a little less tequila when you graduate. It’ll be okay.

 

\- Alex

 

Emma remembers that it was his graduation night, and that he wasn’t sober at all, and thinks that her drunken self was not wrong at all. Not that she’ll admit it - she deserves a little dignity.

 

~~~

 

The middle of March, that same year, he gets turned down from Stanford. He’s all sad, whining about his lack of potential, and she doesn’t really feel that bad, to be honest. She just rolls her eyes and calls him a “nerd who’s not  good enough at being a nerd, the tragedy.” But then he gets into Columbia, all the way across the country and, well. Maybe if she had felt a little more bad about it, she wouldn’t have to call him twice a week for math help, or send him his Christmas gift (an elephant tie as a joke, and two button down shirts for real) in the mail. That definitely has nothing to do with her decision to go to NYU. And it definitely doesn’t make her feel better when she’s all on her own at JFK, and he’s holding a stupid, stupid sign and pulling her into a hug. Definitely not.

 

Her first college party is, naturally, the next night, and because the world hates her, or loves her, it’s at Columbia. The girl she goes with ditches her for a cute sophomore, and she somehow ends up dancing with Alex. Some old school Usher song is playing, and she’s a little tipsy, with her arms wrapped around his neck, and he, for one, seems okay with it. She, on a stupid, stupid, not so stupid, impulse, goes to kiss him, and she gets pretty close before he pulls away.

 

“Emma. You’re drunk.” He sounds a little apologetic, and a little drunk himself.

 

“Yeah, so what?” She’s probably being defiant for the sake of it, but well. She’s drunk.

 

“You’re not even nice to me when you’re sober.” He sounds a little too hurt for the circumstances, and she almost wants to cry.

 

“I’ll dance with someone else, then,” she half-shouts, tired and overwhelmed and probably even then, wishing she could kiss him.

 

She kisses a dumb boy, goes home alone, and, feeling exceptionally sorry for herself, sets an alarm for eight and buys him coffee (one cream, no sugar) and an egg sandwich. 

 

“See, I can be nice and sober,” she says, trying to laugh through the fear, and he, miraculously, smiles too. College is going to be great.

 

~~~

 

College, is in fact, great. She parties a little, studies a bunch, eats a lot of fancy brunches, and buys a lot of dresses. Never to be outdone, she graduates with a double degree in Journalism and Psychology, which she uses to get an internship in LA, writing articles for a lifestyle magazine’s website. She doesn’t love magazines, or this one, but with her signature Emma flair, her articles light up the web. She loves being back, wearing dresses all the time (without tights), hanging out with old friends from school, and new friends from work. Her job isn’t the most fulfilling, but everything else is, and she doesn’t think she could be happier. That is, until Alex calls her in April. 

 

“Hey, Emma,” he says, a little bit nervous, which is, well, like Alex. 

 

“Alex! How’s business school, nerd?” Always with the comebacks, Emma Woodhouse.

 

“Great one, really. Stanford’s good.” He’s still nervous, and he’s hiding at least one thing.

 

“Ooh, Alex has a girlfriend?” Emma has a degree in Psychology, for god’s sake. 

 

“Emma.” He pauses, laughing a little. “Yeah, her name’s Caroline, she goes to school with me, and we’ve been dating since about two weeks after you visited? It’s going really well.” He’s in a long term relationship, and she’s really happy for him, and everything’s great. It’s so great. 

 

“Look at you, Alex. Getting your act together. I’m so proud,” she replies, laughing, “If you were here, you’d see me crying.”

 

“Uh. About that. I got an offer from a wealth management firm in LA. It’s a really good deal.” 

 

She’s a little speechless, but still has it in her to ask him, “What about the beautiful, business-savvy girlfriend?”

 

“She applied for a bunch of jobs, and if she gets the one in LA, I’ll ask her to come with me.”

 

He’s so old, all of a sudden. And maybe she’s not as happy as she thought she was. Not that he needs to know that. “This is so exciting!”, she yells as quietly as she can, before realizing that she’s late for drinks with Izzy. “Hey, Alex, I’d love to talk, but I’m grabbing cocktails with the big sis in twenty minutes, and it’s twenty five away.”

 

He laughs at her. Typical. “Bye, Emma,” he replies, like he’s talking to his little sister.

 

“See ya!”

 

~~~

 

Emma Woodhouse is really, really bored of writing magazine articles. Which is fitting, she supposes, because Alex is also miserable. His girlfriend dumped him for Goldman Sachs, and his coworkers, as he describes, are “fucking evil”. So when she sets up the cupcake king of America with the love of his life, she gets an epiphany. Emma can do lifestyle all on her own, magazine or not. It’s risky, and exciting, and brave, and she would never ask Alex, but well, she’s seen his savings account, and he’ll probably say no, anyways.  But he doesn’t.

 

That’s the most important part.

 

~~~

 

Boring, boring Alex was the brave one. She’s holding his hand, rubbing little circles on his palm, as they drive home from work. Together. He loves her, and she loves him, and she’s this close to pinching herself. But she just needs to know a few things first.

 

“How long?” She asks him, before realizing that it’s her turn to be honest. To be brave. “Cause I didn’t realize it until well, two days ago, but hindsight’s twenty twenty, as they say, and I think I’ve loved you for a really, really long time.”   

 

He smiles as brightly as she’s ever seen, and squeezes her hand so tightly she might as well be pinching herself.

 

“I’ve loved you from the start,” he says, and oh, they’re gonna conquer the world.


End file.
